


The Bare and Square

by Hypnobyl



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypnobyl/pseuds/Hypnobyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While entertaining a prospective football coach for Columbia University, Dr. Holtzmann ends up in the Bare and Square strip club. She can hardly keep her hands to herself when she meets Erin's alter-ego.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jillian Holtzmann appreciates many aspects of her job. She likes standing in front of hundreds of young minds every semester and pushing many of them farther than they ever thought possible. She likes the freedom she has in her research--a freedom that’s defended year after year by both her brilliance and her academic reputation. She even likes going to conferences and getting into antagonistic arguments with most everyone.

What she doesn’t like, however, is that her tenured position at Columbia University is protected mainly by her ability to entertain the university’s guests. She makes things explode a lot, and they would definitely have grounds to dismiss her--but the fact is that every visiting academic and prospective hire wants to meet her. She understands to a certain extent; she’s charmingly odd, she knows the interesting areas of the city like she knows the atomic makeup of every element, and she’s capable of keeping up with the smartest people the universe can throw at her, no matter the field.

As good as she is at dealing with other people, she doesn’t like the practice. As an ambivert, she needs some time to herself, especially after expending so much energy on strangers. Given her druthers, she’d prefer a quiet night in to work on her newest invention than a night on the town buying a random person drinks in the hopes they’ll look fondly on Columbia. Still, she doesn’t dare say no. So, when the Dean of the Science contacts her about taking Kevin Beckman out the next weekend, she begrudgingly says yes, aware that the university will soon notice the scorch marks on the walls in her lab.

“He’s the best football coach in Division I,” the dean advises. “We need him.”

The implied message is: Don’t fuck this up.

0-0-0

When he slings his arm around her shoulders and calls her “Jilly,” she grits her teeth and smiles. She eases out of his grip as soon as she knows doing so won’t offend him and then asks what sort of things he’s into. As suggestions, she offers up a list of good restaurants, bars, and museums. Since he’s into football, she also suggest catching a Giants game--the stadium is in New Jersey, but she’s going out of her way to cater to his whims.

He isn’t interested in the Giants, but he expresses a desire for a good steak. She takes him to a steakhouse not too far from Columbia and wines and dines him. By the end of the meal, she’s got him talking, which is really all she needs to do. He won’t understand anything about her field, but she comprehends the mechanics of football and can connect to his love of classic cars. She’s got a ‘61 Karmann Ghia in her garage that she tinkers with on weekends.

He’s not as bad to be around as some of her other charges have been. He’s not exceptionally bright, but he’s gregarious and friendly. In her mind, she compares him with an eager puppy dog whose paws are a little bigger than he expects. He knocks his glass of wine over, laughs, and lets the waitress pat his lap dry with a lusty wink at Holtzmann that suggests this wasn’t an accident. She wants to roll her eyes at him, but she knows he needs to like her and, by extension, the university.

“That was one good steak,” he comments as they leave.

“Definitely not a mis-steak,” she replies.

He misses the joke. With a sigh, she follows him down the sidewalk and offers to take him to the hottest nightclub in the area. Knowing him a little better, she knows he won’t be interested in anything intellectually stimulating. He shoots her down, however, and she flounders for a better option. She doesn’t struggle for long, as he asks her where the nearest strip club is.

She clears her throat, slightly abashed that she knows the answer without having to do any searching on her phone. She hasn’t been there in five years, but her last experience had been positive. “The Bare and Square isn’t far from here. They’ve got great drinks, too.”

He high fives her, and her palm stings from the impact.

0-0-0

Erin looks in the mirror and adjusts her see-through top. Underneath, her lacy black bra is very visible, and her breasts are tantalizing albeit covered. Her cheeks color at the thought of what she’s going to do very, very soon. Still, she needs the paycheck and the tips, otherwise she might not be able to pay for graduate school. Thankfully, after two years of doing this, she’s learned to let loose with a wig securely covering her hair and a cheesy fake name hiding her identity.

A hand lands on her lower back and pushes her toward the stage. The manager whispers in her ear that she’s got twenty seconds; she closes her eyes and holds her hands over her stomach. She takes several breaths and centers herself. When the pounding beat of her song starts, she steps into the bright lights and strikes a pose.

The dj calls out to the crowd, “Our next performer is Berry, one of the shining stars of our little family here at the Bare and Square. Give her a warm welcome--”

She can’t see the audience at first, which is the way she likes it. Without worrying about them, she can get into the beat of her song--she can leave Erin backstage and let Berry prance around without a care. Berry twirls, twists, and then slowly, seductively removes her top. Her barely-there shorts hit the stage next, leaving her in bra and panties. Hooking her leg around a pole, she spins and arches.

In the audience, Kevin checks his phone. Holtzmann can’t believe him--this is the most attractive woman they’ve seen so far that evening, and he doesn’t give a shit. Her mouth is dry as she holds up a twenty, which Berry accepts with a smile and a wink. She elbows Kevin, who glances up and shrugs.

“Seen better,” he hollers over the music.

“Have not,” Holtz mutters to herself. The way Berry works the pole and the audience has enthralled her, and she never gets this into the dancers. She appreciates what they do, of course, but she’s never wanted so badly to ask one out to dinner. There’s a fire in her belly that she has absolutely no chance of quenching.

When Berry’s song ends, and the dancer steps off stage into the audience, Holtz almost leaps to her feet. She’s not here to pick up women, however, so she grips the arms of her chair and watches Berry work the room for extra tips. Berry is an expert at tugging ties, whispering in ears, and laughing at unheard comments. She sits up straighter when Berry reaches their table.

Holtz offers her another twenty, tucking the bill into Berry’s g-string. “You,” she stutters, “dance good.”

Berry smiles shyly at her. “Want a private dance?”

She glances at Kevin, who shrugs at her. “You be upset?”

“I actually have to take a call.”

“Don’t go too far,” she tells him as she stands. 

Berry takes her hand and leads her to a back room. There’s a chair, a pole, and a boombox, so she sits down and tucks her hands under her thighs. This place, like most strip clubs she’s been in, has a strict no touching rule, and while she’s rather cavalier about authority, she has no interest in accosting someone who’s just doing her job. DeBarge beats through the speakers, and Berry rocks to the rhythm, her hips swaying as she crosses to Holtzmann.

Grinding her hips down, Berry rides Holtzmann’s lap. Holtzmann’s breathing increases, and her heart pounds while her arousal spikes. Berry spins around and loops her arms around Holtzmann’s neck; she dips her head closer and nuzzles just beneath Holtzmann’s earlobe.

“I saw the way you were looking at me earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” Holtz professes, her voice breathy. “I don’t normally--I didn’t mean to--objectify you. That’s not usually my schtick.”

“I don’t normally like giving people private dances.”

“Thank you, then.”

“You’re welcome,” Berry murmurs, getting back to her feet and peeling her bra off. She wiggles out of her g-string as well, and Holtz can’t keep her eyes from wandering over every inch of exposed skin. She can see Berry’s flesh pebbling under her examination.

As Berry swings around the pole, Holtz loses herself in the moment. When the song ends, she digs her wallet out, pays Berry--complete with healthy tip, and then staggers out into the audience. Kevin isn’t back, so she heads outside. He’s not there, either, and she curses the night air. He’s gone off on his own, and she’s going to hear about this at school on Monday.

0-0-0

Erin wakes on Sunday morning with her makeup still on and smeared around her face. She makes it to the bathroom, where she scrubs her features clean and then hops in the shower to wash the strong smell of smoke from her skin. The previous day had been very lucrative, although thinking back on it makes her flush. There was something about that private dance that had gotten her worked up; she doesn’t usually have a problem separating herself from Berry’s performance, but she’d gotten home and thrown herself into bed at the mercy of her own fingers.

Now, she stares at herself in the mirror post-shower and wonders what this means. If she’s getting invested in her dancing, she might need to stop. There are other jobs--hardly as well-paying--so she wouldn’t be totally boned if she gives it up. She just needs some distance.

Thankfully, she only works Friday and Saturday nights, so she has all of Sunday to do her homework, complete the readings for the week, and prepare her notes for class. She gets to bed early, wakes up early, and gets to school early. Her first class of the day is experimental physics with Professor Yates, a motherly woman who acts as an advisor as well as a teacher. She’s never wanted to be friends with a superior more in her entire life.

She walks into the classroom and takes her seat near the front. As she pulls her laptop from her bag, she glances at the podium at the front of class. Professor Yates is there, of course, but there’s another woman bent over her elbow, arguing fiercely about something. Her cheeks go pale as she recognizes the crazy poof of blonde hair as belonging to the recipient of her private dance.

0-0-0

“You’re not going to lose your position,” Abby snaps.

Holtzmann groans. “You don’t understand. He just wandered away. I was--distracted.”

“Did you find him?”

“This morning, he showed up on my doorstep completely out of it. High, I think.” Holtz clutches her head. “I basically poured coffee down his throat and dumped him in a freezing cold shower. But they’re going to see through it. They’re going to see how badly I fucked this up.”

“Relax. You probably let him have the best time of his life last night, and he’ll definitely sign the contract. Why don’t you ever take me out for adventures like that?”

“Because your idea of a good time is watching horror movies with Patty.”

“Sometimes it’s historical dramas.”

Holtz rolls her eyes. “Tell me the next time you’re feeling adventurous. Maybe we can work things out.”

“Right now, all I’m feeling is ready for class.”

Holtz lifts her hands and backs away. “Sorry. But you’re drowning me in alcohol later if I get fired.”

“Will do.”

As Holtz turns around, she makes eye contact with the first of Abby’s students to arrive in the room. The younger woman looks familiar in some way. She pauses, puzzled and unable to place that face. With a shrug, she returns to her office and starts doodling plans for a new piece of machinery for capturing spirit energy. Her drawing shifts into the girl’s face, and that’s when it hits her. That student is Berry.

0-0-0

At the end of the class period, she lingers outside Abby’s classroom. The students filter past, most ignoring her. Berry is the last to leave and freezes on spotting her. She clears her throat and jerks her head toward her office. Berry follows her slowly.

“I just wanted to say that I’m not going to say anything,” Holtz says as soon as her door is closed. “I know this has the potential to ruin future career opportunities, so I need you to know that your secret is safe with me.”

Erin blushes. “I didn’t--I had no idea…”

“Cat got your tongue?”

“You do,” Erin says honestly. “This is mortifying. I am a scientist. Or I will be.”

“Dancing and science aren’t mutually exclusive. There’s definitely a correlation between what you can do and physics. I bet that’s what makes you…” Holtz cuts herself off before she puts herself in an awkward position. Berry is a student. Not her student, perhaps, but still a student.

“Makes me what?” 

“A proficient dancer.” It’s not as complimentary as her original thought, but it’s safely worded.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Holtzmann hesitates, fiddling with a pencil. “Anyway, that’s what I had to say.”

“Okay.” Erin stands, waits, and then heads for the door. “You should come back sometime. For a dance, I mean. I could get you a discount.”

Holtz watches her go and jams the pencil between her teeth. A few minutes later, Abby pokes her head in, and Holtz spits the pencil out.

“Any news on the Kevin fiasco?”

“None, so far.” Holtz gestures to the seat Berry had been in not long ago. “I have something else I need to talk to you about. Privately.”

0-0-0

At Abby’s insistence, she’s thrown caution to the wind. She sits at the Bare and Square with a drink cradled between her hands to bolster her courage. While Berry dances on stage, her leg bounces nervously. Whatever she experienced the week before pales in comparison to her physiological response this evening. Berry makes eye contact at the end of the song, and she has to tamp down on a strained sound struggling to escape her throat.

A bouncer guides her back to the private room without a word, and she takes a seat, still clutching her drink as if it’s a life preserver. Berry enters, locks the door, and hits play on the boombox. Holtz downs her drink and sets it aside in favor of once again trapping her hands underneath her to avoid the temptation of tracing her fingers against Berry’s tantalizing flesh.

She doesn’t recognize the song this time, but even if she had, she doubts she’d care much--all she can focus on is the sultry manner in which Berry cavorts around the room. She barely dares to blink so as to not miss a moment of Berry’s dance; her eyes sting as Berry strips away her clothing and sits naked in her lap.

“You came back.”

“I couldn’t stay away,” Holtz admits.

“What does this mean?”

“Whatever you want it to.”

Berry tugs on Holtzmann’s collar and cocks her head. “I can’t let you break the rules, but I want you to touch me.”

Holtz closes her eyes as fantasies flood her mind. She bites down on her cheek and tries to keep from hyperventilating. Berry bites her collarbone, and her eyes pop open. “What time do you get off?”

“I’m not allowed to give that information out.”

“Come see me in my office before class on Monday if you’re serious about that offer.” Holtz gulps as the music winds down. “If you don’t show, I won’t be offended. I’ll still keep your secret, no questions asked. You have my word. Only come if you want.”

“Shh,” Berry replies, kissing the corner of Holtz’s mouth as she dismounts.

0-0-0

Holtz sits at her desk and reads the email twice. Kevin Beckman accepted the school’s offer, which means her accident wasn’t revealed. She sighs with relief, even as she feels a bit depressed--the first class period has already begun, and there’s no sign of Berry. She supposes that her life hasn’t changed much since the incident, and she’s okay with that. She’s been single for years, a fact that doesn’t bother her much.

After a few weeks, she knows she’ll have forgotten this--or, if she hasn’t, Abby will tease the crap out of her until she’s back to her usual, chipper self. Until then, she contents herself with her work. By the end of the hour, she’s got what should be a technically sound model to build a prototype off of. She scans the design into the computer and gnaws on her lower lip as she plans her materials. The school should pay for most of it, but some of it will be out of pocket. She has to divvy things up appropriately, or she’ll still be building this time next year.

“Professor Holtzmann?”

She lifts her head and tries to maintain her cool as she notes Berry lingering in her doorway. “Come in.”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” Holtz manages a cocky grin. “I meant what I said. No presh.”

“Presh?”

“Pressure.”

Berry pulls the door closed and takes a seat. “Oh. None taken.”

“What brings you by?”

“I overslept my alarm.”

“Oh.”

“I’m Erin, by the way. Berry’s just the stage name.”

“Jillian.” Holtz extends her hand. “Nice to meet you. Did you make it to class on time?”

“Barely.” Erin twists her hair between her fingers. “It’s embarrassing. I swear Professor Yates knows something’s going on.”

“She might.” Holtz winces. “She’s my best friend.”

“Oh God.”

“It won’t affect anything, I promise. She’s okay.”

“I just…” Erin laughs nervously. “I just really admire her, and now she knows.”

“She doesn’t think any less of you. You’re one of her favorite students. Like of all time.”

Erin smiles, but tension remains around her eyes. “She’s my favorite professor.”

“So, the feeling is mutual?”

They stare at each other for several long seconds until Erin nods. “The feeling is mutual.”

“Would you like to get coffee some time?”

“You don’t mind what I do?”

“No.”

Erin nods and stands. She slips a piece of paper onto Holtz’s desk. “Call me later.”


	2. Chapter 2

Holtz holds onto the number for a few days before she calls. She needs the extra time to talk to Abby, specifically about the ethical implications of all of this, and she figures it’s good form to not immediately rush to make contact. She doesn’t want to seem desperate, after all. She and Abby decide that as long as Erin doesn’t take a class of Holtz’s, and Holtz is never in charge of any grading or academic decisions, pursuing the younger woman seems morally okay, but she’s still hesitant to dial the provided number.

She worries that this could impact Erin’s future. Her own is fairly secure at the moment, although a scandal could get her thrown out of her current position, so she’s mainly concerned about what a relationship with a member of Columbia’s faculty could do to Erin’s chances in her chosen field. The mere appearance of impropriety is enough to make most people turn their noses up, and Erin hasn’t had a chance yet to accrue the sort of experience that would outweigh her perceived wrong-doing.

Still, she realizes that Erin is an adult. She should at least invite her out to coffee, set out her concerns, and let Erin decide for herself whether to accept romantic advances from someone nearly a decade older than her. She runs a hand through her hair and picks up her phone. Erin answers on the second ring, and they plan to meet the following day in a coffee shop a sufficient distance from the university that nobody should recognize either of them.

0-0-0

Erin tosses blouse after blouse onto the growing pile on her bed. As Berry, she’s got enough self-confidence to strip herself bare in front of strangers--to swing her body lithely around a pole, to wink at leering men, and to let thick fingers snap dirty bills under her g-string. As plain old Erin, however, she can’t seem to muster enough confidence to choose an outfit for a low-presh--she smiles at the memory of Holtz--coffee date. The problem is, she thinks as she settles on a patterned blouse with a built-in bow tie, that Jillian Holtzmann is intimidatingly smooth, and she’s just Erin Gilbert, doctoral student, part-time stripper, and all-around nervous wreck.

She checks her phone for the time and grimaces; she’s running late. Again. Buttoning the blouse, she grabs her purse and flies out the door. Halfway down, she realizes that her keys are sitting on the kitchen counter, behind her locked front door. She’ll have to deal with this later, however, as she doesn’t want to keep Holtz waiting--although she does waste a moment or two bemoaning her bad luck and how scatterbrained she can be.

By the time she reaches the coffee shop, she’s ten minutes late and totally sure Holtzmann is long gone. She bursts inside, pawing her hair back into a semblance of order, and gazes around. Thankfully, Holtz is at a table near the back, a laptop open in front of her and her fingers flying over the keys. Catching her breath, she steadies her nerves and walks over.

“Dr. Holtzmann?”

“Holtz is fine.”

“Holtz,” Erin amends. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Holtz glances at the time and laughs. “To be honest, I didn’t even notice.”

“What are you working on?”

“Coffee first.” Holtz stands and gestures to the counter. “My treat, as I am gainfully employed by a prestigious university.”

“I can buy my own coffee--”

Holtz winks at her. “I know you can, but humor me, huh?”

“Oh, of course.” Erin heads to place her order, feeling a bit awkward and out of place. In this setting, Holtz seems to be much more in control--she’s grateful to a certain extent. Many of the people she’s dated over the years assume that because she’s a dancer, she’s all about being in charge. They often confuse her for her alter-ego, who is definitely a construct rather than a reality.

When they return to the table, Holtz shuts her computer and tucks it away without explaining her work. Instead, she clears her throat and says, “We need to have one conversation first, if that’s alright.”

“What--uh--conversation might that be?”

“I just want us all aware of everything.” Holtz reaches into her pocket and withdraws a picture, which she slides over to Erin. “That’s yours to keep.”

“Mine?” Erin picks it up and examines Holtz standing in front of a large machine with bright lights and a giant red button. “Not that this isn’t… an interesting?... gift, but uh, what is this?”

“That’s a nuclear super weapon I built a few years ago, just to see if I could.” She shrugs. “I destroyed it, of course, but if the school found out that I used their funding for it, I’d be out on my ass in an instant.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t like it.”

“What?”

“Having something to hold over you, even if you trust me not to. Even if I wouldn’t ever tell anyone.”

“About the dancing.”

“Yes.”

Erin rubs her fingers along the photograph and turns her attention fully to Holtz. “So, this is some sort of weird insurance policy?”

“Yes. If you have that, we’re on equal footing. We both know something potentially awful for the other person.”

“I see.”

“And I have to tell you, we’d have to be quiet--about seeing each other--”

“You’re awfully forward,” Erin interrupts. She tucks the picture away before her anxious fingers can tear it to shreds. “Expecting this to turn into anything.”

Holtz slouches back in her chair and analyzes Erin’s bright red cheeks. “My apologies. I just assumed that because I find you wildly attractive, you’d feel the same way.”

“Wildly--”

“I guess you’re right though. I don’t even know your middle name. What is it?”

“Marigold,” Erin sputters. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It doesn’t, really. But I want to know you.”

Their drink orders are ready a moment later, and Holtz goes to retrieve them. Erin stays seated, her mind whirling about faster than her computer’s processor. That Holtz wants to get to know her is different from her usual experiences as well, and she has to admit she’s curious about the eccentric professor. As soon as her mocha is in front of her, she sips deeply and sighs.

“Good?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Are you only interested because of my dancing?”

“Physically speaking, I found your routine appealing. However, I only became interested in pursuing you romantically when I discovered your attendance of Abby’s class.”

“What if I was doing poorly?”

“Then you wouldn’t have been there forty minutes early for her class.” Holtz slugs her iced coffee and adds, “I was curious.”

“There’s not much interesting about me.”

“An overstatement, I think.”

Erin examines Holtz’s earnest expression and decides that Holtz is indeed honestly interested in her life. She warms to the conversation, talking about her undergraduate experience in Michigan, her family, and her desire for a dog. In return, Holtz shows her pictures of a very fat cat, cracks jokes, and describes her current line of research.

“Ghosts?”

“That’s Abby’s area of interest, and then our dear friend Professor Tolan in the history department helps us with the lore. I’m more into the question of what happens to the force that animates our meatsacks after the human body ceases to function. Half science, half philosophy, and half anthropology.”

Erin ignores the humorous misuse of math. “So, ghosts.”

“Yeah, but no scientist in their right mind would study ghosts, right?”

Erin shifts uncomfortably. “I saw a ghost when I was a child. Every night for a year, at the foot of my bed. Nobody believed me.”

Holtz winks. “You’ll fit right in.”

0-0-0

Several hours later, Erin realizes that she’s been there for several hours. She flushes and stands. “Thank you for coffee, Holtz.”

“My pleasure.”

“I should get going.”

“Me, too, I suppose.” Holtz hesitates. “I don’t suppose you’d let me kiss you?”

Erin fidgets and nods, and suddenly, Holtz’s lips are hers. She closes her eyes for the duration of the short kiss, and then Holtz backs off with a distinctly red color filling her cheeks. Fighting off a giddy sensation, she reaches into her bag for her keys, only to remember she locked herself out. She curses quietly, forgetting momentarily that Holtz is still standing right there.

“What’s wrong?”

“I locked my keys in my apartment in my rush to get here. The landlord is going to kill me. Well, first he’ll fine me fifty dollars for making him get out his spare, and then he’ll kill me.”

“I bet I could get your door open.”

“Um…”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to--to invite myself over.” Holtz laughs, and Erin finds she likes the sound very much. “I just--I’ll get your door open and go home. That’s all. I promise.”

“Thank you. I’d really appreciate it.” Erin decides that she doesn’t want to know how Holtz proposes to pull this off, but she really doesn’t want to deal with her landlord.

0-0-0

Holtz bends near the lock and does something magical with her hands. A few seconds later, the door pops open, and Erin isn’t sure she’s comfortable with how easy it is to get into her apartment. She examines the lock as she pushes the door farther open and notes there’s no damage at all.

“Did you--”

“I picked the lock. A little skill I picked up in juvie when I was a kid.”

“What?”

“I think that’s a conversation for our next date…” Holtz seems out her element as she fumbles for her next statement: “I mean, if you want one.”

“I do.” Erin watches as Holtz bites her lower lip thoughtfully and decides that there’s no harm in spending more time with Holtz, even if she’s likely to lose control in a private space like this. “I mean, you don’t have to leave yet.”

“I don’t?”

“You could come in.” Erin gestures down the hallway to her living room. “I don’t have anything to do until work tonight.”

“That would be great.” Holtz beams and sidles past her. “Thanks for letting me eat up so much of your time.”

As soon as the door shuts, Erin wonders what it would be like to have Holtz eat up something very different. Cheeks burning, she guides Holtz to the couch, where Holtz takes a seat and grins at her.

“Want anything to drink?” From her angle, she can see the top of Holtz’s breasts under the bagginess of Holtz’s shirt. Sweat gathers on her forehead.

“I’m good, but thanks. Do you need something? You look a little--”

“I’m fine.” Erin sits abruptly and averts her eyes. “Thanks for getting my door open. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Really, I’m a fifty-dollar-saver, but who’s counting?” Silence descends, and Erin is painfully aware of every moment that passes. Holtz grimaces and starts to stand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this awkward. I should go.”

Erin drags her back down and pins her to the couch. She kisses along Holtz’s jaw, nibbling on the tip of her chin, and comes to a stop just under Holtz’s earlobe. Gingerly, she bits her earlobe--and then falls back as Holtz takes control.

“You tell me if you want to stop, okay?” Holtz’s breath is warm on her cheeks. “Any time, no matter what.”

“Okay,” she replies, feeling very out of breath. The heady feeling intensifies as Holtz kisses her again and slips her tongue past her lips. The warm velvet of Holtz’s tongue against hers makes her squirm, and her knee bounces up between Holtz’s legs.

Holtz groans into her mouth, and she grips Holtz’s hips with tight, straining fingers. The kiss seems to go on for hours, but ends too soon as Holtz fumbles with her blouse. The buttons slow her down, but she eventually reaches the tiny bow tie.

“May I ask where you found the world’s smallest bow tie?”

“Came with the shirt.” Erin leans forward, removes the garment, and tosses it aside. She drags Holtz’s shirt off as well, determined not to be the only one sans clothing as this continues. “Only fair,” she says, “since you’ve already seen me naked.”

“Maybe,” Holtz replies with a hint of a rasp in her usually soft tone. “But that was Berry. I want to see Erin.”

Erin arches up as Holtz palms her bra-clad breasts. Her nipples harden at the contact, and she gasps when Holtz pushes the fabric aside and rolls one between her fingers. Hot mouth replaces cool fingers, and Erin tangles a hand in Holtz’s wild hair. She tugs when Holtz’s teeth graze her breast, and Holtz pauses to make eye contact.

“Please,” she murmurs.

Holtz nods and worms a hand under her back to undo the clasp of her bra. Once that’s out of the way, she sets about lick, suckling, and nipping at the expanse of skin provided to her. A few times, she purposely leaves a mark--nowhere that can’t be covered, of course--just to prove to Erin that she was there. She peppers kisses down Erin’s stomach and slides her fingers under the hem of Erin’s pencil skirt. Giving Erin a moment to object, which she doesn’t, Holtz tugs those down, panties and all. There are times when she likes to take things slow and sweet--but this is not one of those times.

She glides a finger through the gathered arousal and closes her eyes; she loves how wet Erin has gotten from their kissing, loves that she can work Erin up and hopefully coax Erin to climax. She finds Erin’s clit with her thumb and rubs gentle circles until Erin is panting out an amalgamation of her name, a plea to any heavenly beings listening, and stuttered begging. Deciding to put Erin out of her misery, Holtz eases two fingers inside and curls them up. The hand in her hair tightens, and she assumes she’s doing well.

Returning to Erin’s mouth, she swallows every noise into a burning kiss and pumps her hand faster, trying to keep up with the rapid, desperate thrusting of Erin’s hips. From what she can tell of Erin, the younger woman is usually the very picture of self-control, and Holtz needs to see her undone. She bites Erin’s lip and drags it out until Erin meets her heated gaze.

“Only come if you want,” she says, dragging them both back to the intimate moment at the end of their last strip club encounter. Erin cries her name, drags nails down her back, and falls back against the couch. Holtz strokes her hair with her clean hand and waits as the stars clear from her mind. “You okay?”

“Yes. I’m--wow.” She laughs stupidly and covers her eyes. “You… That happened.”

“Yup.” Holtz stands carefully and meanders around until she finds the bathroom and rinses her fingers. When she returns, Erin stares at her meaningfully until she sits on the couch and tilts her head. “Don’t you have work?”

“I have time for a quickie.” Erin pops the button on Holtz’s slacks. “Fair’s fair.”

“Just one thing.” Holtz grabs her hand. “I don’t dig penetration, okay?”

“Okay.” Erin proceeds to kiss her senseless.

0-0-0

She strides into work on Monday morning with an extra bounce in her step. When she reaches her office, she finds Abby and Patty waiting for her. She groans but lets them inside with her, aware that this is the next coming of the Spanish Inquisition, which she really should have expected.

“So?”

She glances at Patty and shrugs. “You know now?”

“Sorry.” Abby grins with no contrition or shame. “She won’t tell anyone.”

“We have to keep this quiet. I’m serious.”

“All Abby said is you met someone. Why does it need to be so quiet?”

Holtz grimaces. “The circumstances aren’t ideal--”

“She’s a student here. Not one of Holtzy’s, but still a student.”

“I never thought you were a cradle robber,” Patty comments.

“She’s a doctoral student, not an undergrad.”

Patty snorts. “They all look like children to me.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

“I think so. I mean, fingers crossed.”

Abby grins. “I knew it’d be a good match. She’s smart, Holtzy. Maybe smarter than you.”

“That’s not hard,” Holtz replies, grateful for Abby’s unwavering support. “Now, don’t you both have a morning class to teach?”

She shoos them away and settles into her chair. Although she tries to focus on her work, her mind keeps wandering back to her date, and she can’t keep the smile off her lips. Halfway through the first class period, a text buzzes on her phone; Erin wishes her a good morning, complete with a winking emoji. She sends back a text ordering Erin to pay attention to her lecture and then laughs; never before has she had so much in common with T-Pain. She’s in love with a stripper.


End file.
